


You Can Raise Welts, Like Nobody Else

by revenblue



Series: [collection] but you keep spinning 'round me just the same (Perryshmirtz) [44]
Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, holy crap I wrote a fight scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:30:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revenblue/pseuds/revenblue
Summary: The eternal battle of Good vs Evil is a dance, with steps as familiar to you as the backs of your own paws or the solid thud of a punch.





	You Can Raise Welts, Like Nobody Else

**Author's Note:**

> Perryshmirtz Week day 2: dancing/fighting.

The thing you've always found fascinating about fighting is, it's like a dance. No, it _is_ a dance. The eternal battle of Good vs Evil is a _dance_ , with steps as familiar to you as the backs of your own paws or the solid thud of a punch.

Jump to avoid the fist he swings at you, twist in mid-air, slam your tail against his jaw. Oh yes, you know _this_ dance. You _live_ for these moments, when the world narrows down to the air in your lungs and the pulse in your veins and the twitch of your muscles, just you and your nemesis.

He staggers back, finally losing that overconfident grin you adore. _Good_. Now it's serious. "You'll pay for that, Perry the Platypus," he snarls, baring his teeth, then comes at you with fists swinging.

You twirl out of the way, fur ruffling from how close he still is, dropping into a defensive stance at the end. If you know him, and you do, he'll be coming back at you right about...

Now.

Ducking under his inelegant kick, you lash out with your own foot, striking only empty air where he'd been a moment earlier.

"Hah!" he yells, already three of his large steps away. He's never more attractive than he is now, bright artificial light reflecting off the sheen of sweat covering his skin and throwing his features into sharp relief, grinning from ear to ear with an exhilarated smile that matches your own. "Missed me!"

Of course you did. He knows this dance as well as you do. Every step, every breath you both take, every punch and kick and dodge and block. It's never _just_ a fight any more. After this long, it's become more: a challenge, pitting your abilities against his. A reminder of all the reasons you love this man in front of you. A dance as old as time, the two of you synchronised so your hearts beat as one.

You meet his eyes, then glance meaningfully at the inator. It's not _him_ you need to defeat to win this battle.

But why rush? Fighting him gives your life purpose, a meaning beyond the mission, satisfaction like nothing else. No reason you can't put the rest off a little longer. It's not policy but you've found yourself increasingly indifferent to how your superiors would react. The only thing they need to know is that you get the job done.

After a moment to both catch your breath, he charges at you again, a heavy spanner clutched in his hand. You keep a wary eye on it as you jump to the side-

And his foot drives into your gut.

The worst part is, you think as you double over in pain, that you fell for it. Rookie mistake, you should have known better. Weapons are never as dangerous as the limbs you're not looking at.

His shoes clack on the hard metal floor as he crosses into your line of vision, and you chirr weakly. Did he break a rib? It aches enough for that, but you can't be sure, even as he lifts your chin to meet his gaze. "Not so eager _now_ , are you? How does it feel to be the _loser_ for once, huh?"

Gloating always has been his fatal mistake.

Summoning the strength for one last offence, you sweep his legs out from under him and catch him in your arms, pressing a kiss to his rough lips before he can so much as curse your name. To the victor goes the spoils. It feels so good to have him at your mercy like this, so pliant and willing and eager. His hands, so intent on hurting you mere moments ago, twist into your fur with a desperation you can never get enough of.

All of which makes pushing him away difficult.

You do it anyway, because you still have a job to do, hobbling over to the inator with your arm pressed over your still-aching ribs. The self-destruct button is easy to find as always and you lean on it, wincing every time you breathe. He really did a number on you today.

"Curse you, Perry the Platypus," he groans, still where you left him, and you smile. No one can say you don't give as good as you get. Dance or fight, doesn't matter, as long as you're spending it with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [The Masochism Tango](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gnrgWgr00k8) by Tom Lehrer, which really is the most fitting song for this prompt combo XD


End file.
